Confession
by OneWhoTurns
Summary: [Modern/College AU oneshot ft Elizabeth Boone from my first impressions fic.] A drunken Jacob knows exactly who's window to fall through when he forgets his keys.


"Lizzieeee…" A wet mouth nuzzled against her neck, lips grinning against her skin. "Did I ever tell you how much I like you, Lizzie?" His arms wrapped around her waist from behind her desk chair, enveloping her in a warm hug.

Elizabeth slipped a hand back to comb through his hair, and he gradually leaned into her touch. Scratching lightly at his scalp for a moment, letting his satisfied hum vibrate against her shoulder, she soon wove fingers into a tight grip. "You're drunk, Jacob." She gave his hair a slight tug, stomach dipping at his responsive groan.

"Oh, very."

She had to smile at that.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie." His breath was hot against her, tone almost sheepish. "I'll be good. Promise."

It wasn't the first time he'd come crawling through her window in the wee hours of night. Luckily - or maybe not so luckily - he'd broken the screen on his first attempt and Elizabeth had since switched to a sort of netting while she waiting for campus housing to replace it. It meant things were broken far less often. It also meant Jacob knew the one window he could get into any time he was missing a key card. And Elizabeth had begun to wonder if he just didn't bother bringing his keys out at all anymore.

She hummed absently, twirling her fingers in his hair, finding it hard to concentrate on the textbook in front of her with his warm and alcohol-scented body at her back. He was always an affectionate drunk. Her other hand tapped lazy fingernails against the open pages, tracing the last part she'd underlined, trying to re-read it. The exercise was made more difficult as her ministrations made him groan again, slipping his face into the crook of her neck, the rough brush of stubble tickling her flesh.

Her motions finally faltered as his mouth opened, his words and mouth too warm on her skin- "God that feels so fucking good."

She froze, his profanity snapping her back to her senses, feeling a tingle of shame trembling over her body. Drawing her hand back, she pulled away with a small sigh. "Let go, Jacob." Her voice was quiet, cheeks burning as she placed both hands on the textbook before her. He was drunk. Just babbling. She was just the girl he knew would take care of him. The responsible one. And if she let it be anything else, she wouldn't be being very responsible.

He whined but released her, taking a few steps back and flopping - fully clothed, boots and all - onto her mattress. His eyes were closed as he smirked to the ceiling, voice thick as though he might trip over his own tongue as he pouted, "So mean."

The distance cleared her mind a bit. Elizabeth rolled her shoulders back, tucking a bookmark into her schoolwork, and stood. Time to be the Responsible One. She turned on Jacob with a resolved determination.

Reaching for the mini fridge, she grabbed a bottle of Gatorade in one hand and her stash of Advil in the other. She was a little too satisfied by his audible 'oof' as she gently tossed the drink onto his stomach. Tipping out a couple painkillers, she walked closer to offer them. "Open up."

He'd pulled himself into a sitting position and obediently opened his mouth, hands busy cracking open the bottle.

Elizabeth raised unimpressed brows. She wasn't about to do it for him. "Go on." She held the pills out, but he made no attempt to pick them up. Instead-

She felt goosebumps break out on her skin as one of his hands held her wrist, lifting her hand to his mouth to tongue the pills from her palm. Her lips pursed, mouth gone dry and gaze flicking away as he pressed a kiss to her palm utterly casually before releasing her and taking a swig out of the bottle.

Damn it.

 _Ignore him._

Clearing her throat, Elizabeth flicked at his knee. "The whole thing," she reminded him sternly. "Drink up."

That damned smirk. "Yes, mother." She shot him a look but his smirk didn't falter - nor did his eyes leave hers as he tipped the bottle back, draining it in a few long gulps, the whole time his too-bright gaze burning into her. When he'd finished he let out one of the most melodramatic noises of a thirst quenched that Elizabeth had ever heard. She raised a brow, scoffing a laugh.

His hand covered hers on his knee, leaning toward her. "Anything else?" His voice was low and jokingly sultry. At least, she was pretty sure it was joking. The finger tracing circles on the back of her hand made her cheeks warm and her mind wonder.

She leaned just the slightest bit closer as well, her voice just as low but tone brokering no nonsense: "...And two more bottles of water," she instructed.

Jacob rolled his eyes before falling back against the bed, arms sprawled on the duvet, groaning.

"I see you're taking the bed," Elizabeth pointed out with a wry smile as she lifted the discarded Gatorade bottle before it could spill onto the covers. "Such a gentleman."

His head lolled lazily toward her, eyebrows lifting suggestively. "We could always share…"

Again, she snorted a small laugh, letting out a sarcastic hum. There was a moment of amiable silence as she ducked below the bed to grab a bottle of water from the fridge as well, thrusting it into his hands before taking the emptied Gatorade bottle into the bathroom.

Rinsing it out, filling it with tap water, she returned only to stop short, finding Jacob's leather jacket tossed haphazardly on the floor- along with his boots. And his shirt. Jacob was leaned back where her bed met the wall, dutifully draining the first bottle of water, fixing her with a too-innocent look as she re-entered.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Raised brows implied an exaggerated _who, me?_ as he gestured to the bottle still at his lips. "Mmhm-hmmhmhm."

"Yes, I _see_ that. But why-" she gestured to the clothes on the floor.

"Missed the laundry." He shrugged. "Plus-" Toes flexed in his socks, wiggling at her, "No boots on the bed, right?"

Elizabeth pushed his boots under her bed with the rest of her shoes, their thick soles dwarfing hers. That was her rule, yes. One he almost always forgot. A brief thought flickered at the back of her mind, wondering just how drunk he really was. The thought gained some traction as he slid across the bed to hang off the edge, leaning toward her and taking the second bottle, his grip covering hers for a long moment. Without the shirt he'd been wearing at the pub, the scent of alcohol had diminished greatly.

He studied her face, eyes still just a bit too bright, cheeks still flush. He was awfully close.

"Did I ever tell you how much I like you, Lizzie?" His words were a murmur, but there was no slur to be heard.

She hesitated. But she didn't move away. Her reply was slow, careful.

"...Maybe once."


End file.
